


Teacher’s Pet

by Hella_Queer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, Discord Drabble, Edging, M/M, Student/teacher relationship, Teasing, interruptions, or at least it was
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 19:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17566451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: James signs up for film appreciation. Professor Kinkade has a lot to teach him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What started as a thing in discord for my friends turned into a hot button of mine. The Rymes/Griffkink fandom needs more content. The first three chapters are I guess the set up/plot. Everything after that is just horny self indulgence. VERY under edited.

James didn’t even want to take the class. He doesn’t need it, not really. But Nadia assured him it was an easy class and it’s worth *four credits*, and he’s tired of having semesters filled with the hard shit. So he signs up for it and snags the last spot. 

What was so interesting about film anyway?

He arrives early, the classroom empty and too bright. He takes a seat in the middle, third row up, and waits. Soon people fill in the spaces around him, yet no professor to speak of. The lights go out and the screen in front of them flickers.

It’s a movie of course, muted colors and natural sounds. James watches with dull eyes. The hair on the back of his neck starts to rise as the music changes. It’s a subtle shift, and he can tell not everyone picks up on it. He holds his breath, waiting, wa—he jumps, along with several others as the screen grows dark and the lights come on. 

“Welcome,” says a deep voice behind them. “The first person to tell me what this week’s unit is on gets ten extra credit points.”

A man descends the stairs from a door James hadn’t noticed, but he noticed it now. He’s.. god he’s tall, filled out across the chest, arms fitting snug in his button up. He’s even got his sleeves rolled up that’s not fair! He turns to address the class and James is struck dumb by warm green eyes, his fingers shaking as he raises his hand.

“Yes..”

“James Griffin.”

“Yes, Mr. Griffin?”

James waits a beat, two, three. He can feel the class getting annoyed with the silence, but the man, Professor Kinkade he sees on the board now, gives him a grin as he says 

“Suspense.”

James leaves class that day with a brightened mood. Professor Kinkade is...so *real*. He’s not teaching them film like someone would teach math. There’s a person touch to his voice, to the way he answers questions. They already have an assignment for next week, and for once James isn’t bothered. 

“Just a short script, three pages max. A good story takes good camera work but more than that, if you’re filming people, it takes Good Writing. Write something suspenseful. It’s the first assignment so you’ll get half credit for submitting it on time. This is the time to take risks.”

James tries his hardest to think of something that isn’t cliche. Announcing a pregnancy feels overused and predictable. Coming out is something he doesn’t need to do a Third time so that’s out. And it’s too early in the semester for death jokes. He’ll save that for finals. The week passes and he’s still no closer to an answer. He can feel the anxiety creeping up, the fear that he won’t finish the assignment on time. He doesn’t want to disappoint Professor Kinkade. He wants that easy grin when James picks up on a small detail, or his amused chuckle. Two classes and he’s already looking to be the teacher’s pet. 

He needs something good. Something new and raw and real. Suspense could be anything. It can make you worried, fearful, anxious..

Excited

Suspense to James feels a lot like Anticipation. That stomach fluttering, warm in the neck, twitchy finger feeling he gets when.. when he knows someone wants him. When the someone that he wants takes him up on his offer. That moment in space before a kiss. The little sigh at the first touch of skin on skin. 

James grabs his laptop and lets that feeling come alive on the page.

He enters class along with a big group of students, trying not to freak out. When he submitted his script he had been confident in his words. But now he feels like an idiot. He should’ve done the pregnancy thing, he cared for a flour baby in high school he could’ve made it funny!

James is tense throughout class, unable to answer any question, even the easy ones about color and sound. Professor Kinkade asks a few students to stay behind, and James’ heart plummets when his name is called.

They wait in the hall, going in and coming out one by one. James is last because the universe hates him, and he feels cold dread in his chest as he enters the room. 

Professor Kinkade is wearing glasses, because the universe hates him. James has years of practice hiding his nerves though so he stands casually in front of the big oak desk and pretends he isn’t about to pass out. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

Professor Kinkade taps a red pen against the sheet of paper in his hand. His expression is stoic, unreadable. He lets the silence hang until James starts shifting from foot to foot, lip caught between his teeth. 

When he speaks after what feels like five minutes, his voice is low, even, but heavy. 

“You will not speak, unless I ask a direct question. You will go where I tell you. You will wait where I tell you to wait. When I give an order, you will carry it out. The words “I can’t” are no longer in your vocabulary. Not with me.” He finally looks at James over the top of his glasses. “Is that understood?”

James bites down on his tongue so he doesn’t moan and forces out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “T-too risky?”

Kinkade hums, an amuses sound. “Perhaps *risqué* is the more appropriate word.” He smiles, and the room feels normal again. “I was very impressed with your script. Many of the others involved characters gathering the courage to *do* something, rather than waiting for something to be done *to* them.”

“I wanted to be different,” James says honestly. “I wanted to...express a different kind of suspense.”

“And it shows.” 

James manages not to trip on his way to the door. Kinkade stops him just before he can step out. 

“I’m looking forward to seeing more of you this semester, Mr. Griffin.”

“You too, Sir.”

He’s in so much trouble.

Not only did Professor Kinkade memorize that little speech, but he got every detail right. The making him wait, the disinterest, the flat tone. He even waited the five minutes James wrote to show how eager his character Cameron was to hear what his boss, Luke had to say! James is a mess the rest of the day and can barely power through his other homework assignments before taking a cold shower and crawling into bed.

Their next assignment is about dialog. James should’ve known where this was headed, but he overslept thanks to a late night meme war with Nadia and his phone had died in the night cause he forgot to charge it. He gets to class three minutes before he’d be late, tank top strap slipping from his shoulder.

The room is cold, but it turns freezing when James, in his sleep drunk state, spills water down his shirt. He laughs to himself, rubbing his eyes, accepting the apologetic look from his seat mates. 

Professor Kinkade’s gaze is intense as he calls on him. James tries not to blush, but it’s hard to focus when his nipples are hard in the middle of class and his shirt is fucking *white* and all he can think about is the way Kinkade read his script back to him. 

He already knows what he’s writing for next week. 

And just like last week James is one of the students asked to stay back.

Kinkade makes him wait again, but this time James is ready for it. He holds his hands behind his back, acting casual. So what if he wrote Cameron in a similar pose? He was kneeling in front of Luke, James is just standing. Casual. Normal. 

Kinkade flicks his gaze to him, lingering for a moment before returning to his work.

James knew it was coming and he still had to lock his knees so he won’t fall to the floor. “No, Sir.”

“Mm. Why not?”

“Because you didn’t give me permission.”

The silence hangs between them, thick like fog. James swallows a whine and pushes past his nerves. “Are you giving me permission, Sir?”

Kinkade chuckles, and the worst part about it is that it doesn’t sound like he’s acting out his script, even though Luke also laughed at Cameron. 

“No.”

James smiles. “Too bold? I thought keeping to a theme would help with the flow of things.”

“Well I certainly wasn’t expecting to read an orgasm this weekend,” Kinkade says casually. 

James swallows twice. “The Assignment was an impactful conversation. I guess I just wanted the impact a bit more physical.”

“You *guess*?”

James bites his lip at the change in tone. 

“Mr. Griffin, if I’ve learned anything about writing, about art, it’s that the artist always has something to say. Something they want.” Kinkade levels him with a state, eyes sharp and demanding. “What did you want out of this?”

James can’t breathe. He’s warm, he’s far too warm and the swooping in his stomach makes him dizzy. And holds his hands right behind his back and glances away. 

“I..wanted to impress you.”

James laughs, trying not to make this any more awkward that it already is. “You’re always so collected in class, even when answering ridiculous questions. I wanted to catch you off guard if I could.”

Kinkade seems to accept that answer. “I was rather glad to see cum spelled properly. C-o-m-e isn’t as satisfying to read.”

“Tell me about it,” James mutters, remembering all the times his annoying need for coherent grammar took him out of the mood while trying to sext. “We’re both adults here, I think we can handle it.”

“I think so, too.”

James leaves feeling changed once again, but it’s different. He feels less like he’s running a race and more like he’s in a marathon. Instead of hurrying to the finish he’s pacing himself to last as long as possible. He wants to see how far Professor Kinkade will go with this. He wants to see how long he himself can last before he breaks.

Nadia ambushed him on his way to his dorm. She’s insistent on a night out, talking about her biology class and cheek samples. James tries to listen, really he does, but his mind is two buildings back, standing before a big oak desk.


	2. Chapter 2

The bar she takes him to is warm and filled with tipsy, swaying students who dance like they’re at a nightclub and not the local bar three blocks away from the campus library. Nadia ditches him the second she spots a familiar face, leaving James to sit at the bar alone. An average Saturday night for them. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you until Wednesday,” says a familiar voice over his shoulder. James turns. And has to manually stop his jaw from dropping.

Professor Kinkade...is illegal. That’s the only word that comes to mind as he takes the stool next to James. He’s wearing *jeans*, low on his hips and tight in all the right pla—fuck they’re low enough that James can see the sharp V of his hips and he choked a little on his water. V-neck shirts belong to lame frat guys but it’s right across his chest and shows off his arms. James catches a hint of black ink under the sleeve on his right bicep and feels lightheaded. 

“Why Wednesday?” He manages, voice too high. 

Kinkade grins, an untamed thing. “As far as the facility knows I’ve got a head cold. But between you and me?” A y’all glass of something sweet looking slides the bar into his waiting hand. “I’m recovering from a hangover.”

James can’t stop staring. Kinkade looks so different outside of the classroom, younger without his tie and glasses that James is certain are just for show. 

“What’s in that?” He asks, motioning towards the glass. He waits as Kinkade doesn’t stop drinking to answer right away. He makes James wait. He’s staring to like that. 

“Lots of pineapple. Wanna try?” He tilts the glass towards him, tiny black straw ready to assist. James grips the stool under him with one hand and holds the glass with the other. Kinkade doesn’t let go. Their fingers touch as James drinks deeply, the sweet kick of the pineapple tingling his tongue and making him greedy. 

“Good?” Kinkade asks, eyes zeroed in on the way James licks his lips, chasing after the straw for one more taste. 

“Y-yeah.”

Kinkade gets him one of his own. When James tries to pay for it, Kinkade pins his hand to the bar. “I offered, I’m paying. Those are the rules.”

James starts to protest, but the sound of what his mother would call *rowdy* laughter shakes him from his thoughts. A group of men and women descend upon the bar, all greeting Kinkade with easy familiarity. 

“Can you or your date stand, Ry? My feet are killing me in these heels.”

James’ face burns red at being mistaken as his *teacher’s date*! He can’t even find the words to correct her, tongue heavy and useless in his mouth. He’s eased off of his stool by sturdy hands, and he fully plans on making a hasty retreat to wherever Nadia is hiding. But then he’s moved again, lifted off of his feet—

And into Professor Kinkade’s lap.

James.exe stops working. 

Someone is talking, asking a question, maybe directed at him but he can’t hear anything over the sound of his racing heart. Kinkade’s chest is solid against his back, his hands are warm on his hips, his voice fumbles softly and god he smells so fucking good. 

“You left us for a bar date?”

“James is my friend, we’ve gotten pretty close.”

“We can see that.”

The world around him goes quiet. 

Kinkade had called him James. This was the first time the man had used his first name and now James has to bury himself because this is all he’s going to be thinking about for the next five years.

James tries. He really really does, but he keeps slipping and he hates when chairs are uncomfortable. He braces both hands against the bar and moves, trying to find a way for him to.. oh..

Warm lips brush against the shell of his ear as Kinkade’s grip around his middle turns to almost too tight. 

“*Stay. Still.*”

He’s hard. 

James just barely stops himself from whining out loud. His heart races in his chest, threatening to give out. Professor Kinkade, strong, tall, unfairly sexy without even trying Professor Kinkade is *hard*. Because of *him*! It feels like a dream, the kind he refuses to think about when he wakes up sticky and too hot. 

Being told to stay still is like being told not to swim in water. He takes a deep breath, hands still gripping the bar, and *moves*. He knows they’re being watched, knows Kinkade’s friends are laughing at him, at the blush high on his cheeks, but all of that is secondary. 

He starts small, little shifts like before. But then he hooks his ankles around the metal of the stool holding them up and grinds down *hard*, lips parting on a sigh.

James doesn’t know what turns him on more, the little wolf whistle he gets from one of Kinkade’s friends, or the hand that slips under his shirt and presses against his stomach. 

He bites his lip, shuddering as he rocks faster, eyes fluttering closed. He’s not even that buzzed, as much as he wants to just blame the alcohol. He kicks himself for once again ignoring Nadia about going commando on their nights out. He always had some excuse as to why he wouldn’t, why he couldn’t even entertain the idea. 

But now all he can think about is removing that extra layer between them, of wearing ripped jeans that expose his thighs. He thinks about the hand squeezing his knee, the one that travels up his leg and the fingers that rest scant inches away from his cock trapped in these stupid pants. 

He thinks about Kinkade leaning over his back, pressing him up against the bar. The lips against his ear that whisper words just for him. 

“You’re normally so obedient, James. Why are you choosing now to be bad?”

James shakes, pressing back more insistently against him. Strong hands grip his hips and *hold him down* as Kinkade rolls his hips up. Just once. 

“Is it because we have an audience?” Kinkade asks, pressing the words into his skin. “Do you like showing off?”

“Or is it because you know I can’t punish you with everyone looking?”

“*Please*,” James gasps, vision blurring with how needy he is. “Please, Sir, let me—“

He chokes on his words as Kinkade *bounces him on his lap*. He scratches at the bar, gasps too loudly as he reaches back to grab onto any part of the man he can reach. His wrist is caught in a bigger, hotter hand and pinned to his back. 

James whimpers.

“Alright!” Someone laughs, clearly more tipsy than James is. “It’s time you two got a room, c’mon Ryan.”

Kinkade laughs. “What? We’re just talking.”

“Talking him into getting off, maybe.” 

James’ blood freezes in his veins. It should be impossible to think about anything but this moment, but his mind slowly turns back to Wednesday, to class, to the way Kinkade quoted his script. 

James had written Luke toying with Cameron, of how he touched him but not where he needed, of how he let him squirm and writhe, of how he *talked him into an orgasm*.

A startling moment of clarity overtakes him. James downs the rest of his drink as Kinkade pays the tab, then finishes the other off because he loves pineapple and he really needs this confidence boost. But Kinkade doesn’t stop touching him, easing him to his feet only to wrap pull him close by the waist, a possessive hand curled around his hip. James fists a hand in his shirt and tries to lead them to the bathroom, but Kinkade, unfairly strong and tall Kinkade, easily herds him outside.

The night air cools his damp, sweaty skin, giving him goosebumps. It’s nothing compared to the shiver that runs down his spine when Kinkade *lifts* him into the backseat of his truck. James pulls him in after him, landing on his back on cool leather. 

“Please,” James pants, eyes bright and wanton. “Please I need-“

Kinkade chuckled, somehow pulling the door shut with his foot. And presses a lingering kiss to James’ neck, slowly pushing his shirt up. 

“You don’t need me to get off. You were doing just fine back there.”

James thinks he’s teasing, that he’s toying with him. But Kinkade doesn’t do much besides feel him up, thumbs never quite grazing his nipples, lips just barely kissing his torso. It’s like getting it on with a ghost, except James can feel the heat radiating off of the man, can feel him hard against his thigh. 

“Then let me get on top.”

James doesn’t expect to be flipped so easily, or so smoothly. Usually backseat fumblings were awkward and clumsy but one moment he’s on his back and the next the hard line of Kinkade’s cock is right under his ass. 

“Better?” Kinkade asks, pushing up his shirt. James tries to pull it off but he isn’t allowed. He tries to unbutton his pants but he’s stopped. He tries to lean down for a kiss but Kinkade just grabs his chin and nibbles along his jaw. 

“Will you just let me—“

“No.”

James glares down at the man below him. Kinkade doesn’t even look affected, his erection the only indication that he feels anything at all. He’s been nothing but calm this entire night, manhandling him with barely a thought, pinning him down, keeping him on the edge...

James bites his lip, reaching down for Kinkade’s jeans instead. He skates his fingers along the waistband, thumbs at the button with anticipation weighing him down. 

“C-can I?”

“What do you think?”

James huffs, inching up Kinkade’s shirt by s few inches. The sharp cut of his hips looks even better up close, as does his dark skin. His mouth waters with the need to taste, to bite and.. 

A whimper falls from parted lips as James dips his fingers beneath the waistband. There’s nothing underneath. Nothing but a button and a zipper keeping him from being filled until he cho—

“What *can* I do?” James asks, because he’s not sure how long he can last like this. 

Kinkade, satisfies, stretches out as much as he can, using one hand to support his head while the other squeezes James’ hip. 

“Impress me.”

James was good at planning, at carrying out specific steps, at mapping things out and following the rules. He wasn’t impulsive, didn’t do things at the drop of a hat or on a whim. 

Not until now. Not until Kinkade. 

Never before has he been so bold, so eager to get the jump on someone, to make their eyes grow wide in surprise, in awe. But he’s also never been this turned on or this needy or this *desperate* to impress someone before. 

There really was a first thing for everything after all.

James moves slowly, a little unsure. He takes Kinkade’s hands and runs them along his body, pushing them under his shirt and arching into the touch. He rubs those warm, big palms over his chest, squeezing his pecs with bigger, thicker fingers. Kinkade hums underneath him, but otherwise doesn’t help him. He lets James use him the way he wants. 

It takes a minute for James to work up the nerve to truly move again, but when he does it’s like they’re back in the bar. He works his hips in small circles, head tipped back and eyes slipping shut. He wants to make things even between them, to remove a layer between them, to *feel*. 

And then Kinkade starts moving too.

James doesn’t notice at first, too lost in trying not to come too soon, but he jolts when Kinkade bucks his hips up. He reverses their hands so that he’s guiding James’ and starts unbuttoning his pants. 

James shakes, fingers clunky and hands sweaty as he lets Kinkade do what he’s wanted to do all night. His hands pushing his pants down his hips, exposing his underwear and sending his heart racing. 

“Cute,” Kinkade murmurs, watching him turn pink. He uses James’s hands to push his pants down further, and James make the leap to get rid of them entirely, kicking off his shoes in the process.

It’s been a long time since James has felt this vulnerable. It’s dumb really, how his heart kicks and stutters with the slow drag of Kinkade’s hands traveling up his bare thighs. How he shifts and spreads his legs wider until he’s properly straddling the man. 

“You,” Kinkade purrs. “Are *very* dangerous, Mr. Griffin.” And hearing his name like that, like they’re in the classroom, should snap some sense into him. But it only makes him mown, makes him rock his hips harder. 

“Me?” James gasps, falling to his forearms. He catches himself before he can fall completely on top of Kinkade and catches a face full of dark eyes that watch him with a kind of hunger he’s never seen before. 

“I think *you’re* the dangerous one here, Professor.” 

Kinkade winds his fingers through James’ hair, the other squeezing his ass. “That’s only because you can’t see what you look like in class, watching me the way you do.”

He pulls him down close, lips brushing as he speaks. “You don’t know what I’m thinking when I have you all to myself.”

James closes his eyes, too afraid to lean forward, not strong enough to lean back. “W-what do you think about?” 

“I—“

Loud banging on the window makes James jump.

Kinkade holds him close and pushes his face into his neck, hiding him as he glares out the window. 

“Can I fucking help you, Leif?!”

James, despite it all, snorts. He clings to Kinkade and breathes in his scent, nuzzling closer and playing the part of a bar hookup. 

A muffled female voice breaks through the tense silence. “I decided my date was unsatisfactory and I require a ride home.” 

Oh fuck was that Professor Ina? Nadia’s physics professor? *His* physics professor from last year? Why were college teachers at bars of all places didn’t they drink wine or something?!

“Call an Uber then,” Kinkade tells her, reaching for James’ pants without moving him too much. 

“I don’t need to. You are right here.”

Kinkade grumbles, sighing. “Fine, sure. Can you give us a minute? Like, without stalking us?”

“... very well. I will wait inside for five minutes.”

Kinkade doesn’t let him go until Ina is gone, and even then he’s slow to release him. James fumbles with his pants, searching for his shoes in the dark. The mood has shattered all over the floor and it’s like picking through glass trying to find something to say. 

“So..” James says to his knees. “Did I impress you?”

His chest feels heavy with uncertainty, and his limbs feel weighed down by the alcohol and he’s still kinda hard but he mostly has to pee. 

Kinkade grabs his chin again and kisses his cheek, nipping at his ear before letting him go. 

“I look forward to seeing more of you, James,” he tells him, gently easing him out of the car. James bites down on his grin. 

When he finds Nadia seven minutes later, leaning against a classmate and babbling about epic skateboarding fails, he can still feel that kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks. That’s how long James waits. That’s how long he plans. He does the assignments, takes detailed notes, aces all of the in class quizzes. But that’s about it. He isn’t asked to stay behind, he doesn’t ogle Kinkade or make suggestive gestures. It’s almost as if the previous weeks never happened. 

Which is exactly what he wants. 

He feels like the world’s most obvious spy, walking down the hall in his tight sleep shorts and the one tank top he knows is too big but refuses to get rid of. The straps slip down his shoulders constantly, exposing a good amount of skin. If he gets his way he’ll be showing even more soon enough. 

Kinkade answers the door to his office when James knocks, and stares down at him for a solid thirty seconds before stepping aside. James smiled politely, eyes roaming around the office eagerly. He scans the bookshelf in the corner and hears the door close behind him. Hears the shades on the door being drawn. 

Hears the lock click shut. 

James turns again, watching Kinkade watching him. He shifts from foot to foot, lips pursed slightly. The silence weighs down on him, filling the room and pressing down on him. He isn’t afraid of silence now. Not when he knows what to say. 

“What?”

“I’m thinking.” 

“About??”

“About how fast you’d break if I touched you right now.” Kinkade pushes off from his desk and moves to circle him, fingertips barely touching his shoulder. “You’ve been *so good* in class, giving your cute little smiles to everyone who speaks to you.”

James holds his breath as Kinkade leans in close behind him, lips inches from his ear. “Yet here you are, with me.”

A warm hand caresses his side, fingers spreading out and squeezing. James bites his lip, stepping back and resting against his chest. 

“What do you want, James?” James’ head tips back as Kinkade wraps a hand around his throat. He breathes in deeply, rising up on his toes so that the hand tightens just a bit. 

“I want you to fuck me.” 

Kinkade is silent, removing his hands from him completely. James tries not to let his disappointment show. “Why should I?” He doesn’t go far, doesn’t tell him to leave, and James is done with letting things happen to him. If he wants this, and he really, *really* wants this, then he’s gonna have to get it. 

“I can show you better than I can tell you.” 

James takes a deep breath, then whips off his shirt in one smooth motion and drops it to the floor. He advances on Kinkade, backing him up against the desk and bracing his hands on either side of his hips. His lips stray close to the mouth he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about, and he feels so hot it’s s wonder he doesn’t burn through the wood of the desk. 

“Alright.” Kinkade says after a beat, curling forward to gently bump his nose against James’. 

“Impress me.” 

James surges up on his toes and kisses Kinkade *hard*, desperate and demanding and not at all interested in taking things slow. He hooks his knee around his hip and moans loudly when Kinkade squeezes his ass, rolling his hips into him. That hand slips down the back of his shorts and James gasps when eager fingers brush against the—

*“Shit.”*

James huffs a laugh into Kinkade’s neck. “Impressed yet?” He asks in a soft groan, pressing up harder against him. “I wanted you to open me up. Wanted to cum on your fingers, let you stretch me out until I cried.” 

“But I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Kinkade growls and turns him, pushing him down onto his desk and removing his shorts in one smooth motion. He doesn’t bother with his shoes, and something about being completely naked except for a butt plug and his running shoes has him squirming on the cool wood. 

He’s fully on display, spread out under big hands that keep him from closing his legs, but he’s never felt more in control. James makes a soft little sound in the back of his throat and Kinkade gravitas to him like a magnet. 

Kinkade starts at his hips, biting, licking, kissing marks into sensitive skin. He goes slow, savoring instead of teasing, taking what he wants instead of riling James up. He squeezes his thighs hard enough to leave bruises, and the thought of tracing them later makes his cock twitch against his belly. 

James tips his head to the side, biting his lip. “You got lube and condoms in that drawer?” He nods over the side of the desk. 

Kinkade looms over him, hands on either side of his head, his gaze pinning him down. 

“I’ve got lube.”

The implication of that sentence makes James tighten up around the plug. 

“Good.”

They don’t wait long after that.

Kinkade twists the plug and eases it out of him, quickly replacing it with two slicked up fingers. James wasn’t kidding when he said he was tired of waiting. The plug isn’t small by any means, and even adding a third finger only makes him sigh and shift impatiently. 

“I can still make you cry,” Kinkade muses, working his belt open with his free hand. “Turn you over and watch you rut against my desk.” 

“Next time,” James tells him, fingers curled tightly around his bicep. “C’mon, hurry up—ah!” He arches up into the hand holding the base of his cock as Kinkade assaults his prostate. His heels kick against the desk, muscles spawning without a place to hold on to. His fingers slip on the wood, leaving sweaty fingerprints. 

“You sure?” Kinkade purrs. “You’d look so pretty with tears in your eyes.”

*“Fu-uck!”* 

“Mmm, yeah.” He lets James thrust up into his fist, precum slicking the way. “Gonna tie you up next time, baby. Let you warm my cock for a few hours. That sound good?” 

James slaps at the table, panting towards the ceiling. “Ry—*Ryan*,” he whimpers, “Please. Please c’mon need it, need you.” The hand holding onto his arm travels up, across his shoulder until he can grab his tie. He forces his eyes open, finding his vision blurring the longer the lightening bolt of pleasure travels up and down his spine. 

“Don’t you wanna cum in me?” 

James, in his lust drunk state, can see the exact moment when Kinkade snaps. He releases his cock, removes his fingers, and shoved his slacks down just far enough to take himself out. He’s...fuck he’s gorgeous. Long and thick and heavy as it slaps against the inside of his hip. James’ jaw aches. 

Next time. Definitely next time. 

He holds his breath and watches Kinkade slick himself up, showing off with slow strokes and smirking when James zeroes in on his foreskin. He *really* wants to get his mouth on that and if he wasn’t so desperate he’d flip himself upside down and swallow that monster or choke trying. 

Kinkade pulls James closer to the edge of the desk, and James wraps his legs around his waist. He’s ready. He’s open. He’s pulling Kinkade down by his tie and opening his mouth at the touch of his tongue, going soft and pliant as the head of his cock teases at his hole. He’s whispering pleas, his arm wrapped around his neck. He’s—

—listening to the phone ring above him. 

Kinkade stops. 

“Don’t,” James hisses. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

The atmosphere threatens to shatter, wobbling unsteady on the head of a pin. They’re *so close* and if they stop now James might actually lose his mind. 

The ringing stops. Then starts again. 

“Ryan.” James licks his lips, arms beginning to shake. “*Please*.” He kisses the corner of his mouth, trying to coax life back into his frozen form. “J-just let it ring, okay? Unplug it.” Throw it into the fucking hallway for all he cared. “Don’t.. don't stop.”

The ringing stops. Then starts again. 

James is crying for a different reason as Kinkade stretches over him to reach the phone, the head of his cock so close to where it needs to be. James covers his face in despair, going limp on the desk.

“Fuck. You.” 

“Hello?” Kinkade says into the receiver, just before he slams into James. 

*FUCK*

James covers his mouth just in time but that doesn’t stop him from shouting, from writhing under the onslaught of confident, demanding thrusts that Kinkade doesn’t even seem to be affected by. He puts one of James’ legs onto his shoulder, opening him up, going *deeper.*

“Good afternoon, Iverson. What can I do for you?” James bites down on his fist and tries to control his breathing, but when every other inhale is a gasp, an aborted cry, the action feels useless. Kinkade doesn’t slow down for him, not hitting his prostate but staying pretty damn close to it. 

“Mr. Griffin?” Kinkade’s hips stutter to a halt, along with James’ heart. The two stare at each other, eyes wide. “What about him?” 

James shakes, fear making him grow soft. What if Iverson saw him walking over? What if he knows about the bar? What if other students gossiped and put the idea in his head. Will Ryan get fired? Arrested? He can’t be the reason this wonderful man loses everything, he can’t!

A soft cry leaves his lips before he can stop it, and suddenly Ryan is right there, holding his cheek and kissing him soft and slow. He can hear Iverson’s familiar barking tone, but he doesn’t focus on it. All he can feel is Ryan above him, the warmth from his body and the gentle sounds of his breathing as he kisses across his cheek. James finds himself relaxing, the death grip on the tie loosening just a bit. 

But then Ryan pulls back. 

“You think film is a waste of his time?” 

The hand on his face stiffens, then slides down to cradle his jaw. Ryan kisses him hard, sloppy and wet, before the hand moves to his neck. James supposes he should be scared, nervous maybe, but he feels grounded instead. Secure. 

*Owned.*

“With all due respect,” Ryan says, voice low and dangerous, “I think Mr. Griffin is right where he wants to be.” His words are for Iverson but his eyes capture James and refuse to let go. In a trancelike state, James reaches up and above, fingers searching until he feels the receiver. Ryan raises a brow, fighting a smile as James fumbles for the button to end the call. 

The dial tone sounds faintly. 

“If he calls again..”

“You have my undivided attention.” 

Ryan’s hand trails heavy down his chest, tweaking a nipple before continuing down to squeeze his hip. He gets his hand around James’ soft cock and works him back to full hardness, beginning to move his hips in short, shallow thrusts. It isn’t long before he has James worked up again, legs locked around his waist, quiet little gasps filling up the room. 

When the phone rings again Ryan haula his hips up completely off of the desk. James’ toes curl, his chest heaves with every soft cry and long moan and hitched breath. He fists a hand in his hair and clutches the edge of the desk, hardened cock bouncing lightly with every thrust. He doesn’t have enough purchase to touch himself. 

“Can I..” James whispers, afraid to ask after being denied so many times. Maybe it’s best to ignore the heat coiling in his stomach, the needy jolt and twist of his hips as Ryan nails his sweet spot dead out. If he tries really, really, *really* hard, he can push the pulsing desire to the back of his mind. He.. h-he..

“Please!” James arches even further, shoulders the only thing connected to the desk for a second. “Please please *plesse*, I can’t–can’t wait anymore.” The heat builds and builds, racing through his body so fast he can barely breathe around it. “Don’t stop, don’t stop again, need it, need to cum, *please Ryan*!” 

Ryan slows just enough to lower him to the desk, but he still fucks in just as deep, just as hard. He gazes down at James with heat in his eyes, lip caught between his teeth, a flush to his cheeks, finally an indicator of James’ affect on him. He wraps his hand around James’ cock and strokes him fast, thumbing the sensitive head. 

“Whenever you’re ready, baby.” 

It’s not elegant or pretty when he falls. He yells, his moan loud and relieved and hurt. His muscles cramp and tighten hard enough to leave him gasping as he paints his own chest white. He’s trembling when Ryan spills inside of him, James’ name on his lips, which only sets off another round of tremors. 

James whines when Ryan fits the plug back in, cock twitching weakly. He’s gathered up in strong arms and normally he’d complain about being treated like something fragile, but right now he’s right where he wants to be. There’s a couch by the bookshelf and Ryan has him in his lap, rubbing his arms to warm him up. 

It’s quiet for a long time, just the sound of their shared breaths and the distant footsteps of students in the hall. It’s...Soft. Nice. 

“So,” James says into the silence, voice hoarse and scratchy. “You said something about tying me up?”

Kinkade chuckles, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose and his closed eyelids. 

“Next time,” He promises, kissing him again. 

Definitely next time.


End file.
